Falling Leaves
by Avalon Estel
Summary: A series of drabbles from LOTR. Literacy: Eowyn and Faramir, Paths: Random hobbit and Elf.
1. Far Away

Falling Leaves

_One: Far Away_

Celebrían tread gently through Caras Galadon, her eyes searching. She found whom she was looking for leaning over a bowl of water, gazing into its depths. She was there often as of late.

"Mother?" she asked.

Galadriel looked at Celebrían, her face passive. It was her eyes that betrayed her. They were filled with a deep, tearing sorrow that she couldn't mask.

"How does the Last Alliance fare?" Celebrían ventured.

"The Shadow ever darkens," Galadriel said quietly.

After a moment, Celebrían added, "And Elrond?"

"The Mirror does not show," Galadriel said, holding her, "but I am sure he is fine."


	2. Meeting Uncle Strider

Falling Leaves

_Two: Meeting Uncle Strider_

King Elessar dismounted his stallion, Queen Arwen lithely slipping off her mare behind him.

"Greetings, Master Samwise, Mistress Rose," said the king, bowing politely. The hobbits returned the salutation.

Elessar looked at the little hobbit girl beside them, who was barely fifteen years old her hair golden bright. "And who is this lovely golden flower?" he asked.

The hobbit girl blushed as Sam stroked her hair. "This is Elanor, our pride and joy," he said. "Elanor, meet Stri – I mean, King Elessar."

Elessar kissed Elanor's brow. "Uncle Strider is fine."

She blushed. "'Tis an honor to meet you, Uncle Strider."

* * *

_Both "Far Away" and "Meeting Uncle Strider" written for my friend Avendya._


	3. Fly Far Away

Falling Leaves

_Three: Fly Far Away_

The bird rises from my windowsill, its wings beating gently at the air, wind ruffling through its feathers as it takes to the sky. I sigh. How I wish I could take flight, could soar somewhere no one else knows, could leave behind the troubles and torments that plague me ruthlessly.

But alas, I've no wings. I am trapped, like a caged bird. It flaps its wings, knowing it cannot be free.

Flight is for the birds. I know that. But the White Lady of Rohan is strong, and one day I'll fly far away.

One day, I'll be free.


	4. Dusty Memories

Falling Leaves

_Four: Dusty Memories_

"My, Mr. Frodo. Things get awfully dusty while you're away, don't they?" asked Sam, swiping the grey film from a shelf of books with an old cloth.

Frodo brushed a hand across his forehead, wiping away perspiration. "Indeed. I can't believe everything that's happened."

Sam nodded. "'Tis amazing the things hobbits can do when they puts his mind to it."

Frodo blew dust from the surface of a book. "But I would never do it again. I could have lost so much." He glanced at Sam. "We might not have survived to clean this dust together, my friend."

Sam smiled.

* * *

_Written for the "Dust" challenge at the tolkienweekly community at LiveJournal._


	5. Lifting Shadows

Falling Leaves

_Five: Lifting Shadows_

I recall when Lord Glorfindel returned from the siege. Though still tall and proud, his eyes were haunted. Horrors that only war brings had been seen through those eyes and had brought back others, worse. I, Erestor, had feared I could not restore the brightness they once held. He played and laughed, but not in mirth. It was only to cheer others.

Slowly, the light returned, the shadows faded. His laughter was enough to lift the darkest soul, and his spirit flared as brightly as the sun on his hair.

He was back.

He was Glorfindel again, my dear friend.

* * *

Many thanks to all who reviewed. I appreciate your words! 


	6. Literacy

Literacy

Eowyn strolls down the aisles of books in her husband's large library. She stops and pulls out a crimson volume embellished with spidery gold lettering.  
"Ah, a good one," Faramir says from behind her. "Have you read it?"  
"No," she says, fingering the cover.  
"You should."  
Eowyn says nothing for a while. "What does it say?" she asks finally.  
Faramir is startled. "You cannot read?"  
She shakes her head. "I never learned." She is ashamed, but she hides it.  
Faramir, however, sees the discomfort in her eyes. He reaches out and touches her pale hair. "Come, I shall teach you."

* * *

_Written for Erestor at LiveJournal_


	7. Paths

Paths (A double-drabble)

Young Belinda Proudfoot was out in the woods. She'd been possessed by a most un-hobbitish desire to go there that morning. Perhaps it was her mother's Brandybuck blood. At any rate, she was gone, and no one knew.  
Running through the trees after a butterfly, she halted suddenly. She'd almost run into a tall person. At first she thought it was one of the Big People, but she noticed that this being was more lithe and graceful than they were.  
He smiled. "What are you doing out here, little Halfling?"  
"Are you one of the Elves?" she asked without warning.  
"Indeed, I am," he said with a laugh.  
"But why are you all the way out here?"  
He knelt. "I could ask the same of you."  
Belinda shrugged. "I wanted to come."  
"So did I. I wanted to see it before..." He trailed off.  
"Where are you going?"  
"To the Gray Havens."  
She noticed that his eyes were gray. "Why? Because of your eyes?"  
He laughed. "Perhaps."  
"And then where?"  
"Valinor."  
She looked sad. "Then you're leaving."  
"But that's all right. We all must eventually." He stood. "Farewell, little one." He smiled and was gone.  
Tears fell from Belinda's eyes.

* * *

_Written for Allie at LiveJournal_


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